


JAOA - Small Steps

by Gail Riordan (lferion)



Series: JAOA [4]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-09-20
Updated: 2000-09-20
Packaged: 2017-10-07 22:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lferion/pseuds/Gail%20Riordan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Qui-Gon takes a walk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	JAOA - Small Steps

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Black Rose for letting me play! Thanks Thanks also go to Mark for encouragement &amp; Laurel for hanging in there.

_Year of the Republic 24,983_

 

"Master, the healers won't approve. Let me help you."

"No, Obi-Wan. This is something I must do. Too much help now will be a hindrance later." His voice was still rough and whispery, but there was no doubt of his resolution.

It hurt to witness, to watch and listen, not moving, as Qui-Gon struggled to rise, pushing himself slowly vertical, balancing and reaching with his weak right hand, his nearly useless left. At last he stood, hardly more steady than the babies in the creche, temples damp with effort. Obi-Wan forced himself to keep still.

[Think of it,] his Master remarked presently, saving his breath, [as practice for Anakin.]

There was a railing around the edge of the room. Having gained the stability of the doorway, Qui-Gon leaned for a moment against the wall. Gathering himself, his thoughts. [You have started coaching Ani] (reach, grip, stand upright) [on the Forms.] A small step.

"Yes, First through Fourth, attack and defense." The healers didn't want Qui-Gon to try walking without their supervision. His muscles were still relearning basic function, and the least effort left him struggling for enough air. A fall would be disastrous.

[You watch him,] (shift hand, then foot, balance) [and make notes.] (Shift other foot, then the left hand.)

There was only the sound of effortful breathing. The knuckles of Qui-Gon's right hand were white on the bar, the left had been persuaded into a balancing but strengthless curl. The drape of the thin sleep trousers emphasised how little flesh was left on his bones. Obi-Wan would Force-catch him if it even looked like he was going to fall.

[You can give him facts,] A shuffle, a slide; [direction,] the second foot joined the first, [correction,] breath rasped, [teach technique.] Another small step. [Skill ...] another [cannot be given.] A pause and a step. The slow concentration of movement was almost eerily graceful, if one did not know what it had once been.

[Learning is won by doing.] The corner. (Reach with the left hand ...) Muscles spasmed; his face twisted in pain as the elbow jerked and twitched.

Obi-Wan's own hands clenched tight in reflex. /Breathe. Just breathe. He won't fall. I won't let him fall./

Even words were work. [He must _do_ \--] a half-a-step. [Embody.] Another. [Act.] The spasm eased, hands steadied on the rail. [Practice.] A slightly firmer step. [Engage himself to learn.] Ankles wobbled, knees threatened to collapse.

Obi-Wan bit his lip and forced the reflexive tension he felt out into the Force.

[He will need you to watch] Qui-Gon breathed, swallowed; centering and balancing, [both when he fails] the tremble lessened [and when he succeeds.] He pushed onward, small increments. [So that you may ... note the effort,]

He was using the lecture, Obi-Wan realized, as a distraction and a focus for them both.

[Work ... to correct the failures]

Only a few more inches, one more step. Obi-Wan held his breath.

[And celebrate ... the successes.]

Qui-Gon was exhausted, shaking, hair clinging in damp strands to face and neck. His breath sawed, quick, harsh, almost sobbing -- but he had traversed the room, aided by nothing more than the railing and his own will. He stood, swaying, at the side of the couch, flushed with achievement. Obi-Wan's heart swelled.

[You may,] even through the Force his voice was breathless [help me now.]

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan whispered, at his side instantly. He caught and eased him down to the freshly made couch, reaching for a towel to blot away the sheen of sweat on face and chest, careful of the angry, tender scars. His eyes stung, pain and joy and relief all mixed together. "Please, Master, don't..."

A still-trembling hand forestalled him.

[Celebrate the successes, Obi-Wan.]

Blunt fingers brushed his cheek, curled behind his ear, feathered through his hair.

[Even the small ones.]

Tendrils of Force served in lieu of muscles, tugging him forward, his head closer.

[I know it's hard, love,]

Warm breath caressed his face.

[I know.]

He could fall and drown -- had fallen, was drowning -- in those blue eyes.

[But the prize is worth the effort.]

Soft lips touched his own, kissing, blessing.

[Celebrate the Moment, love.]

Such fragile triumph, such small steps to be called a victory, but it was success, and kisses were celebration indeed.


End file.
